


oh darling, darling

by Le_Tournesol



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 100 word, 300 word, 50 word, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur knows about Merlin’s magic, Drabble, Established Relationship, Gen, Guilty!Arthur, Hurt!Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin is Done with Arthur’s crap, Merlin!whump, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, Protective!Arthur, Protective!Merlin, Sensory Deprivation, Sick!Merlin, Sickfic, Whump, Whumptober, Worried!Arthur, court sorcerer!merlin, hurt!Arthur, married merthur, merlin overdoes it, now with princess carry, protective!knights, word goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 13,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_Tournesol/pseuds/Le_Tournesol
Summary: "Oh darling, darling, stand by me."--- Merthur Whumptober
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 312
Kudos: 430
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. waking up restrained - shackles - hanging

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElizaStorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaStorms/gifts), [harsassypotters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harsassypotters/gifts), [seadeepy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seadeepy/gifts).



> waking up restrained - shackles - hanging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> waking up restrained - shackles - hanging

Arthur’s arms are bound behind his back. The ropes wrap around his chest and wrists, and there are more tying his ankles together. 

These are the first things Arthur notices when he wakes up with a headache in a dark room. He’s pretty sure he’s underground because of the dank, damp smell that permeates what he can only describe as a cell. 

He’s lying with his cheek smashed against the stone, and it takes him a moment to sit up and right himself to get a proper look around his present accommodations.

When he catches sight of Merlin, his stomach drops out. 

Arthur can’t help but startle in disbelief, “Merlin?”

Arthur wracks his addled mind, but he knows that Merlin didn’t go with him on this excursion. 

Merlin had been sick, and Arthur had insisted that he stay in bed and rest. As much as he wanted to stay by Merlin’s side while he recovered, he couldn’t ignore the cry for help from the outlying village of Stroud that was a two-days ride from Camelot. It was a peaceful little outcropping with excellent agricultural productions, but Arthur would have gone out to protect them even if they weren’t such an economic boon for Camelot.

So how could Merlin be here now? 

Arthur grimaces.

Merlin looks terrible. 

His lip is split, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that has created a sticky trail of blood down the side of his face. His hair is matted with the same sweat that creates a sheen on his skin, which is somehow even paler than his usual shade of snow. 

And he’s clearly unconscious, shackled, chained to the ceiling, limp, hanging from his wrists, toes barely brushing the floor. 

His hands are the color of bone, save for the deep purple bruising that mottles the flesh on either side of the cold iron cuffs. The veins of his arms and hands stand out in stark relief. 

He looks dead. 

There’s a sudden lump in Arthur’s throat, and his voice cracks when he repeats, “Merlin? Merlin!”

The sound of creaking hinges pulls Arthur’s attention to his left, where a short, broad man is wearing a satisfied smirk as he enters the room.

“Awake, I see? You’ve caused me an awful lot of trouble, your highness,” the man says. 

Arthur struggles against his bindings, “What do you want? Who are you? Let Merlin go.” 

“After I had to go out completely out of my way to go fetch your pet sorcerer? Not a chance. I went to all the effort to terrorize Stroud just to get the pair of you out of the citadel, and he wasn't even with you. My men had to make an extra trip _and_ get through Camelot’s protections.” Slowly, the man eyes Merlin like he’s surveying his prey, “We hadn’t planned on that complication. We had to take out a few guards, but fortunately, your pretty little plaything was all out of sorts. Too unwell to put up a fight."

To emphasize his point, their captor reached out and caressed Merlin’s sweaty cheek.

Merin doesn’t react in any way.

“Get away from him!” Arthur shouts.

The man returns his attention to the angry King and continues, “I hear you’ve given him a title, named him court sorcerer.” He leers, “Heard you’ve also made him your consort. Imagine my surprise. A sorcerer becomes consort to the king? Must be awfully good on his knees then, or on his back?” 

Arthur growls, “Enough.” 

Satisfied with the effects of his taunting, the man crosses to Arthur, “You are a blight on your father’s legacy. When you lifted the ban on magic, you spit on his grave. I will see you punished for it, and I will see Camelot rid of magic once more.” When he finishes speaking, he steps out of their cell only to return with Arthur’s own sword. He gestures with the sharpened blade, “I plan to start with him.” 

“Don’t!” Arthur commands. 

With renewed vigor, Arthur fights against the ropes that restrain him. The ache in his temples pales in comparison to his fury, but the other effects of the blow he took to the head aren’t so easily swayed. His balance is skewed, and his movements are sluggish make him nauseous. Regardless, he grunts with effort and tries to get up off the floor.

Confident that his royal prisoner is too incapacitated to do any real damage, the man ignores Arthur and the noise of him shuffling against the ground. Instead, he continues, “I suppose you should know the identity of the man who will slay your lover and sit upon your throne."

He runs a finger along the polished steel as if testing the weapon. He appears satisfied. “My name is Ulric. My own father was a coward.” As he talks, he steps closer to Merlin. He peers at him thoughtfully. “I lived in that village as a child, you know. Stroud. It was very long ago. My father was a terrible farmer, so he learned to practice enchantments and spells to help the crops flourish.” 

Ulric’s tone is light now, almost conversational, but a vicious anger simmers beneath his calm facade. He lifts the sword and presses the tip to the fleshy underside of Merlin’s bicep before dragging it against the thin skin. Blood beads to the surface. Arthur strains against the ropes binding his hands. “Everyone in the village suspected someone in my family was using magic, but no one said anything until the Great Purge.” Ulric scowls, “When the soldiers came, our neighbors sent them straight to our family.

“My mother hid me, but I watched. When the soldiers demanded that the magic-user surrender themselves, my bastard of a father shoved my mother into their arms.”

Exhausted by his own struggle, Arthur can only watch in horror as Ulric proceeds to cut into Merlin’s opposite arm. Ulric’s brown eyes are fixated and intense. 

And then the mood changes. 

In a sudden fit of pique, Ulric grabs Merlin by the hair and wrenches his head back and snarls, “I watched her burn, Pendragon, for a crime she never committed because my selfish sorcerer father chose to protect himself.” Spittle flies from his lips from the force of his vitriol. “All magic is inherently selfish, and those who choose to use it must be stopped. If not, the innocent will continue to suffer at their hands."

All at once Ulric drops the sword and wraps a meaty hand around Merlin’s slender neck. Ulric’s stare never wavers as he squeezes. 

“There are many who agree with me, who will see me take the throne and undo all that you have wrought upon your people.” Finally, Ulric relaxes his grip around Merlin’s neck. Merlin’s head lolls sickly against his shoulder. Arthur hopes he isn’t dead. He can’t tell if Merlin’s breathing in the lowlight. “I will keep you as a prisoner, make you watch as I rebuild your broken kingdom.” 

Ulric crouches down to retrieve the sword, which he inspects thoughtfully, “But first you will watch me run him through with your own blade.” 

“Merlin!” Arthur cries helplessly. He doesn’t know what he expects to happen, but nothing changes. "Merlin! Merin!"  


Sparing a glance for Arthur, Ulric tells him, “I think I’ll cut out his heart and keep it in a jar.” 

Ulric’s fist tightens on the hilt, and then he draws his arm back to thrust the point of the sword into Merlin’s stomach. 

Arthur wants to close his eyes. Arthur doesn’t want to watch. 

But his eyes remain open.

Frozen in panic.

“NO!” 

His tone is so riddled with agony he doesn’t recognize his own voice. 

The noise he makes in the back of his throat is almost inhuman.

The sword clatters as Ulric slumps to the ground. 

There’s a spear sticking out of his back. 

It had whizzed through the open door of the cell and met its unsuspecting target.

Pervical has never looked so enraged. His muscles are stilled tensed from his launch of the weapon. 

There’s a cacophonous explosion of sound as the knights race into the room.

Leon rushes to Arthur as Lancelot races to Merlin’s side.

Arthur is barely aware of Leon moving around him, cutting the ties and speaking, asking if he’s alright, alright, alright. 

Lancelot cuts Merlin free, and Percival catches him before he can sink bonelessly to his knees. The pair gently lay him out flat. A couple of knights have their weapons trained on Ulric's corpse, and Elyan darts forward to take the keys from his belt loop.

“We’ve got to get these off of him now,” Lancelot insists as Elyan passes him the keys. Swiftly and precisely in spite of his fear, Lancelot unlocks the cuffs and throws them across the room just as Arthur rises unsteadily with Leon’s help.

As soon as they’re removed, Merlin gasps. 

Arthur lunges out of Leon’s hold and lands next to Merlin. He reaches for his hand. 

“Merlin? Merlin, can you hear me?” he smooths his thumb gently over Merlin’s knuckles. “Please, Merlin. Answer me.”

“Ngh,” Merlin groans. His eyelids wrinkle as his brow draws in pain. “A-arth’r?” 

When a choked sob escapes his lips, Arthur realizes he’s crying, “Merlin. Merlin, I thought you were dead.” Arthur bends forward until their foreheads are touching. “I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead.” 

“Mmm,” Merlin mumbles unintelligibly. 

Arthur feels hysterical. 

“Sire, we need to see to both your injuries before we can move you,” Leon is saying, but Arthur can’t take his eyes off the man lying in front of him, breathing, alive, alive, alive. “Sire?”

Merlin’s hand twitches in Arthur’s. 

Elyan has already started working around Arthur. He wipes away the blood on Merlin’s arm and wraps the wound to staunch the flow. 

“He’s going to need stitches,” Elyan pronounces gravely. “His injuries need to be cleaned before infection can set in. He needs a physician. I don’t know if he can wait until we can get him back to Gaius. I’m also worried about his throat swelling up.” 

Leon nods, “His wrists look awful.”

Lancelot’s posture is tense while he explains, “It’s the cold iron. It traps his magic. The effects become worse as time passes.” He frowns at the bruising, the chafed, raw skin, the angry veins. 

Merlin whimpers when Elyan pulls tightly on the bandages, and Arthur shushes him softly.

“Shh, I know,” he says. It could be the head injury, but Arthur’s emotions are running amok right on the surface. “I’m here. I know it hurts. I’m here.”

“Ar’thr?”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Arthur tells him. “Just hold on. Just hold on, Merlin. I’m here.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things:  
> 1\. Prompts are from [Whumptober2020](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com)  
> 2\. Anyone is welcome to remix, expand, or podfic any of these pieces. Just tag me please.   
> 3\. Each chapter is it's own little universe unless otherwise specified. Some of will be drabbles with a specific word count. I have taken many liberties -- so don't be surprised if Lancelot/Gwen pop up happily married or good!Morgana is joining the gang for adventures.  
> 4\. I have had horrible writer's block, and this is one attempt to get past it. I can't believe this is my first foray into this fandom, especially when I'm trying to balance a new job, haha.  
> 5\. [Come fangirl with me.](https://sunflower-le-tournesol.tumblr.com)


	2. pick who dies - collar - kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pick who dies - collar - kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble — 150

It’s an easy decision.

After all Merlin’s made the same choice time and time again. 

The redheaded witch observes him with a stony expression. Her booted foot is pressed to Arthur’s neck, pushing his face into the dirt and detritus of the forest floor. 

Her partner leers and presents the collar to him, “Give yourself to us, Emrys, and I will spare the life of your golden king.”

Merlin licks his lips before he answers. 

This is the last time he will see Arthur’s face, and he wants to commit it to memory. 

It’s not the best way to remember him, he knows, but he savors these last moments. 

Arthur, unconscious but unhurt, who could be sleeping if it weren’t for their present company. His eyelashes brush his cheek, his lips part slightly, and Merlin wishes he could kiss him one more time.

Merlin wishes he could tell him goodbye 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it’s nine and I just got home from work happy Friday y’all 
> 
> Thank you reading! Kudos and comments give me life.


	3. manhandled - forced to knees - held at sword-point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> manhandled - forced to knees - held at sword-point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1000

Arthur happens to be alone on the battlements overlooking the stables when it happens. 

Merlin is hauling a freshly polished saddle across the grounds when Sir Eric and Sir Gregor catch sight of him. Sir Gregor elbows his companion in the side, and together they form a wall directly in front of Merlin to block his path. 

Arthur’s brow wrinkles. Had the two been waiting for him? Why? What business could they possibly have with Merlin? 

Watching them carefully from his place on high, Arthur is too far away to hear what’s said, but he does notice that Merlin takes a step backward.

Gregor reaches out to place a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder. While he’s no Percy, Sir Gregor’s bulk dwarfs Merlin where he stands. 

Something about this makes Arthur angry.

Merlin’s lips curl with reproach as he glances disdainfully at the knight, and Sir Gregor’s expression contorts with rage. 

Before Arthur can blink, Sir Gregor is forcing Merlin none too gently onto his knees while Eric draws his sword from its sheath. Gregor shifts behind Merlin and wrenches his head back. Sir Eric lifts the sharp point of his sword to Merlin’s pale throat. 

Arthur moves like a man possessed. He races to the nearby stairs and takes them three at a time until he’s out in the bright sun. 

Both of the knights are too preoccupied with their captive to notice him coming.

The blade at Merlin’s neck has drawn blood, and Sir Gregor’s fingers are gripping Merlin’s shoulders tight enough to bruise.

There’s no fear in Merlin’s eyes.

There’s only fury.

Sir Gregor and Sir Eric don’t know what hit them. 

Arthur’s got a whiteknuckle grip on the hilt of his sword, which he draws with such force that it flashes like quicksilver and cuts through the air with a whistle. 

“Step away from him,” Arthur threatens lowly. “Now.”

As if Arthur is a roaring fire and they’ve only just realized they’re too close to the blaze, Sir Gregor and Sir Eric dart away. 

“King Arthur!” Sir Gregor exclaims.

“Sire! It’s not... we were just kidding around,” Sir Eric insists. 

Arthur ignores the cowardly pair. He has eyes only for Merlin, whose gaze is on the ground. Regardless, Arthur can tell he’s flushed with anger and embarrassment.

Arthur grits his teeth in response to the vitriol thrumming within his chest. 

Even though his most base instinct is to run them through, he knows that’s irrational. Moreover, even if Arthur is king, Merlin is still a servant, and Gregor and Eric are nobles. 

While that doesn’t carry the same weight it had during his father’s reign, politics and political alliances remain a tricky thing. Sir Eric’s family in particular plays a vital role in the protection of Camelot’s borders, but the man himself is the apple that fell quite far from the tree. Arthur will have to deal with him carefully, but for now he needs to make sure Merlin is all right. 

“Get out of my sight,” Arthur growls. “If I see either one of you so much as look at him again, I will not be so merciful.’

The sorry excuses for knights scramble away, and Arthur stoops to offer Merlin a hand up. 

Merlin hesitates, but he slides his palm into Arthur’s hand. They slot together like two pieces of a puzzle, and Arthur pulls him to his feet. 

“All right?”

Merlin nods, but he won’t look at Arthur. 

He doesn’t make any move to straighten himself up either.

Arthur picks up Merlin’s discarded neckerchief and says, “Here, let me.”

Gently he presses the fabric against the cut, which he thinks is shallow enough that it won’t need stitches. Merlin places his hand over Arthur’s. 

“Thanks,” he says.

“Of course,” Arthur answers. This isn’t the first time Merlin has fallen foul to a noble, a visiting party, or an enemy, and Arthur hates it. It’s not even the worst incident. “You should have Gaius take a look at your neck.”

“Mmm,” Merlin murmurs noncommittally. 

Arthur frowns as Merlin scoops up the discarded saddle.

Arthur is supposed to keep Merlin  _ safe _ . 

Every time that he is reminded that Merlin comes to harm within the walls of Arthur’s own castle, it sets him on edge. It’s a myriad of guilt, anger, frustration, impotence. 

Arthur asks, “What did they say to you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Arthur says without thinking. “It matters to me.” 

Merlin peers at him thoughtfully, “Why?”

_ Because  _ you _ matter to me,  _ Arthur wants to say.

But he doesn’t. 

When Arthur doesn’t answer, Merlin’s expression shutters closed before he mutters, “You. They said some things about you. And me.” 

Arthur swallows, “What about us?”

Merlin hunches. Arthur could swear that Merlin is  _ blushing _ when he stops fiddling with the saddle to glance up at him from beneath his dark lashes, but he quickly schools his features. Resolved, he says, “Nothing. Nothing true anyway.” 

“Merlin?”

Shaking his head lightly, Merlin flashes a smile that’s almost convincing, “Right. Anything else you need, Sire? I’d like to get this tucked away and get a poultice before I bring your dinner.”

“No,” Arthur says. “I just... See to your duties.”

Merlin nods and stalks away, but Arthur gets a funny feeling in his chest and blurts, “I’ll see you this evening?”

It’s a stupid question. 

Of course Arthur will see him this evening. Merlin just promised to bring his dinner, like he does every evening. 

Merlin’s obviously taken aback by it as well. His blue eyes widen. He even cocks his head to one side.

Still, Arthur can’t bring himself to regret asking. There’s some part of him that wants to hear it from Merlin’s lips, wants the reassurance that Merlin is fine, that they’re both fine, and that Merlin will be there for him tonight no matter what some spineless knights said about them.

Merlin pauses for a beat, but then his mouth slowly goes soft around a sincere smile, one that’s only for Arthur, “Of course.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time I did something like whumptober, I started writing ahead of time so I would have some things ready to go... This time I feel like I am flying by the seat of my pants. Will I have time to write today? Yes, possibly, if I try to sneak in a few words while I'm riding in the car or doing something else, haha. 
> 
> I haven't even gotten a chance to do cover art for this or add my Tumblr link OR link to the actual challenge list. 
> 
> Anyway. This one's going live right at 11:00 PM, haha. I think I managed last night's by ten? 
> 
> Comments and kudos bring me all the joy. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	4. caged - buried alive - collapsed building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> caged - buried alive - collapsed building

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 500

The dust is blinding, thick and cloying.

Arthur coughs and coughs, and his eyes stream with it.

They’re alive, though, in spite of the tunnel that’s collapsed around them, which cages them like prisoners within its rocky confines.

They’re alive because of Merlin, Arthur knows, and then he struggles with his next thoughts. They’re alive because Merlin is a  _ sorcerer.  _

When the earth shook from beneath their feet and above their heads, the castle groaned and muttered like a living thing.

And Merlin had thrown his hands up, spoken in a tongue Arthur didn’t comprehend, and his eyes lit up, gold like fireflies in summer’s fields. 

Now those same eyes are a familiar blue and watch him with trepidation. 

There’s a cut above Merlin’s eyebrow from a stray piece of rubble, and he’s filthy with dirt and grime. Water drips onto his shoulder from a crack in the ceiling, but he seems completely numb to it. 

“Arthur?” he asks. “Are.. Are you all right?”

Arthur doesn’t respond.

Merlin’s shoulders hunch around his ears. 

Ignoring the elephant in the tomb and steeling himself, Merlin continues, “We need to find a way out of here. I’m not sure how much air...”

“What? You can’t just... blast us out?” Arthur demands.

Merlin bites his lips, “I’d be too afraid of making things worse.” 

Arthur sighs.

The sound is too loud in their tiny pocket of space, and Merlin flinches. 

Hard.

“How long have you...?”

“I was born with it,” Merin interrupts when Arthur trails off.

“Is that even possible?”

Merlin purses his lips and shrugs, “It must be.”

“Have you used it? In Camelot?”

Merlin closes his eyes, “Yes.”

The admission hangs heavy in the space between them. 

While they’re trapped in a nominal expanse that could hardly contain a third person, it feels like a chasm has opened up between them.

“Why?” Arthur asks. “Why did you come here? What do you want?” 

“My mother sent me to Gaius to keep me out of trouble,” Merlin laughs, but it’s a hollow sound. “I didn’t know anything about Camelot.”

“Why did you stay?”

“You,” Merlin tells him. The single syllable is uttered without guile, painfully genuine, and cuts Arthur to the quick.

“Me? Why me?” 

“I have to protect you,” Merlin confesses. “My magic is for you, Arthur. I didn’t know it until I came here, but it was always for you. There is a prophecy. You are to become the greatest King Albion has ever known, and I am to be by your side to make sure no harm comes to you, to ensure that you fulfill your destiny.” Merlin pauses and then corrects himself, “But it’s more... it’s more than that. I  _ want _ to protect you. I want to be by your side.” 

There’s so much hope and earnesty in his words. 

Some part of Arthur desperately wants to believe him.

Another part wishes that this is just a terrible dream.

“I’m happy to serve you... until the day I die.”

  
  



	5. on the run - failed escape - rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on the run - failed escape - rescue

“Come on, Merlin, come on!” Arthur begs, and Merlin would give him anything, anything, anything, but he doesn’t think he has the strength to give this to him. 

Unsurprisingly, the original plan had been thwarted, but they’d managed to escape by the skin of their teeth. While Merlin’s quick thinking may have gotten them out of a scrape and ultimately paid off, the price was just a little too high this time:  He’d lost far too much blood, and the bone of his left shin was poking obscenely through his skin. 

Arthur, who refused to acknowledge his own injuries, had hauled him along for more than a kilometer before Merlin had finally collapsed. 

This would be his last daring escape, he knew. 

“Just a bit further,” Arthur pleads. “Please.”

The broken word splinters Merlin’s heart into pieces, and Arthur’s sob grinds what’s left of it into dust. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispers. He lifts his hand to cradle Arthur’s jaw. “You need... you need to go. They’ll be after us.” 

“No,” Arthur refuses. His words are harsh with intention, “I won’t leave you. I’m not leaving you.” It's his next inhale that catches in his throat, “Don’t leave me. Don’t do this to me, Merlin. You can’t do this to me.”

Arthur clutches Merlin’s hand in a desperate grip. 

“You’re going to be a great king,” Merlin tells him. Somehow even talking is exhausting, and Merlin feels like he is minutes from drifting off into a sleep from which he will never again wake. 

Arthur shakes him, “I can’t do it without you, you idiot. So stop trying to say goodbye.” Arthur presses their foreheads together, and his gaze bores into Merlin. “You’re not allowed to give up. I forbid it. I’m your prince, damn you, and I’m ordering you to hold on.” Arthur shifts until he’s able to bring Merlin’s bruised knuckles to his lips. It's so surreal that Merlin is sure that he's imagining it. Though Arthur's expression is serious, the movement of his mouth over Merlin's skin is gentle as he implores, “For once in your life, you will listen to me, Merlin."

Wrapped up in Arthur, Merlin feels timeless, like they are the only two who exist inside this moment. Arthur’s presence alone is suddenly like a soothing balm, there’s no agony of injuries or conflict or trouble. There is only them. 

It feels like a lifetime.

When there is a rustle to their immediate right, the world intrudes on them again, crowding them, demanding their attention. 

Arthur stiffens. 

Merlin mourns his warmth as he steps away.

Resolved, Arthur moves to stand protectively in front of Merlin, but he has no weapon save for a broken branch he wields like a club. 

Tensing, Merlin tries to prop himself up on one elbow and prepares to give his last secret away as they wait for whatever lurks behind the bushes.

“Show yourself,” Arthur bellows. Despite his exhaustion and the turmoil, his body is coiled like a spring. Regardless of the situation, Arthur doesn’t face his demise like prey; he holds himself like a predator. 

_ Stupid, stupid, brave Arthur,  _ Merlin thinks. 

And then it’s Leon who bursts through the trees, Leon and several other knights on horseback with supplies and a cart. 

Merlin is so relieved.

Arthur is safe. 

Merlin smiles, and then he lets go.

When he wakes up several days later in his own chambers, Arthur is holding vigil at the foot of his bed. He’s pale, wan, and he looks a little tired, but he’s  _ fine, fine, fine,  _ even if he  is scowling at him, “Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again.”

Merlin himself feels like shit, like he's been run over by a spooked horse and then left out in the stocks all night, but he can’t keep his lips from turning up at the corners.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not happy with this one. It was sort of building up to something when I started yesterday, but then I got busy and now it's 11 PM on Monday...so... messy, rushed wrap-up. Still a good exercise, I think, though.
> 
> Anyway. I like hurt/comfort, but I am a HAPPY ENDING kind of girl. 
> 
> Also... wow, this just feels so heavy on the angst, I feel the need to write some serious FLUFF. Is that an oxymoron? 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> 


	6. get it out - no more - stop please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 150  
> Get it out sort of became take it off.

“You’re killing him,” Arthur shouts. Two burly soldiers restrain him, but Arthur thrashes like a madman. “Stop. Please.” 

Merlin’s trembling intensifies until he’s once again convulsing, seizing on the cold slab of stone he’s been laid upon like an offering. When it stops, he vomits and chokes on his own bile until he weakly manages to turn his head to the side. 

Blood and stomach acid drip from his chin to puddle beneath his cheek. 

“Off,” he murmurs, delirious. “Off. G’t’t off.”

Arthur has seen Merlin’s magic suppressed in the past with cold iron, which is certainly unpleasant, but he’s never seen something like this amulet or it’s effects. 

There’s a sheen of sweat on Merlin’s furrowed brow, and his lips are white, dry, chapped, cracked and bleeding, and Arthur hates it.

_ No more _ , he thinks. 

Arthur shuts his eyes to Merlin’s agony, but can still hear his labored breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Arthur gets free in time to save Merlin and the knights show up, and they all beat the ever-loving daylights out of the bad guys. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are writer’s fuel.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. support - carrying - enemy to caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1000

Arthur  _ knows,  _ and Merlin isn’t safe. 

He runs.

It’s frigid. The snow is up to his knees, and the wind is as sharp as any blade. There wasn’t enough time to grab any of his warmer clothes or supplies before he fled for the woods, and he’s soaked to the skin and shivering. 

When he tries to light a fire to warm up or dry his clothes, his magic rebels, like it’s been affected by his turmoil. It won’t cooperate. It’s there, he knows because he can feel it, but it won’t  _ listen _ to him. 

Does he even know what he wants?

He feels torn up and raw, but he doesn’t feel cold anymore. 

Exhausted from his flight from the castle, Merlin seeks shelter under the cover of a hollow tree. 

The snowstorm howls around him while he presses his forehead into his knees. 

How did he let this happen? 

How could he have been so stupid?

Even with his eyes closed, he can picture Arthur’s face with perfect clarity: shock, betrayal, anger.

Merlin suppresses a sob.

He curls into a ball. 

And then he does something very, very stupid. 

Merlin goes to sleep. 

Arthur is an outstanding tracker, but he is only one man and the woods are vast. 

Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Leon, and Lancelot, who are closest to Merlin, don’t hesitate to follow him when he rides off into the storm.

As much as he wants to send every soldier at his disposal to look for his wayward manservant, he can’t do so in good consciousness in this weather. 

Arthur didn’t even ask the five who did accompany him: He merely told them where he was going, and they readied themselves for a rescue mission.

Shivering bitterly in the cold, Arthur urges his horse forward and follows the divots in the snow that he believes to be Merlin’s footsteps. It hadn’t taken too long for him to give chase, so Merlin’s head start shouldn’t be an insurmountable advantage.

Of course, Arthur thinks, it wouldn’t be if Merlin was traveling a normal way, but if he was using  _ magic _ ... Well, Arthur couldn’t be sure then.

Magic.

Merlin was a  _ sorcerer. _

Merlin, his manservant, his friend, his confidante, his advisor, Merlin, who he couldn’t stop himself from loving, was a  _ sorcerer _ . 

What would’ve possessed that fool to come to Camelot, to practice magic in Camelot? 

How had Arthur never noticed? 

For goodness’ sake, he was the bloody king of a land where sorcery was prohibited under pain of death, and he had spent the better part of his time the last few years running around  _ with a sorcerer.  _

When he’d seen Merlin’s eyes turn gold as he coaxed the flames in the hearth higher, he had been utterly blindsided. 

Dissonant, Arthur had started at the man he thought he knew better than anyone. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

Clearly, Merlin had also been at a loss. As soon as he’d realized his mistake, he’d taken one last long look at Arthur and bolted.

Arthur curses himself.

He never should’ve let the idiot out of sight.

Of course Merlin would charge off into a blizzard if left to his own devices. Hell, Arthur feels its safe to assume he had gone off with nothing more than the clothes on his back. 

He must be so fucking scared. 

It’s this thought that spurs him onward in spite of the elements.

Merlin, alone and frightened in this mess, worried that Arthur would make him pay for his crime with his life. 

Arthur’s body recoiled in horror from the very idea. 

Yes, they had a lot they needed to discuss, but surely Merlin knew that Arthur could never harm him?

He’d never said as much aloud, but he thought that Merlin knew the depth and breadth of his feelings, even if he wasn’t able to return them. 

Resolved, Arthur decides there will be no more secrets from this moment onward.

There will be no more hiding. 

Arthur needs to know the extent of Merlin’s actions, and Merlin needs to know that Arthur loves him.

For better or worse, this will be a turning point.

Just as he thinks as much, he comes across a large tree with a gap in its trunk. The path he’s been following leads directly to it.

“Merlin?” Arthur calls as he dismounts his horse and secures her reins to the nearby branch. “Merlin?”

There’s no response, but Arthur can see the huddled form more clearly as he gets closer.

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur dispairs.

He’s made himself so small in his temporary shelter. 

Arthur rushes to cross the remaining distance between them and drops to his knees in the snow, “Merlin? Can you hear me?”

Arthur places his hand on Merlin’s shoulder to shift him around so that he can see his face.

_ Oh, _ Arthur thinks when he sees the tears that have frozen to Merlin’s cheeks.

Merlin is as white as bone with the exception of his lips, which have turned a lurid shade of blue. Merlin isn’t shivering. His chest barely rises and falls with his breath.

_ Hypothermia _ , Arthur’s mind supplies as he takes in the thin, stiff clothing.  _ Frostbite _ . 

He pulls off his thick cloak and wraps it around Merlin’s skinny frame. 

Arthur wants to draw him against his chest, tuck him beneath his chin, warm him up, but there’s little he can do for him here. They need Gaius. Now. 

Arthur shakes his shoulder, “C’mon, Merlin. We need to get home. Wake up.”

Merlin doesn’t stir.

Arthur tries not to panic.

Reaching around Merlin, Arthur pulls one of his arms over his shoulder and then gets his own arm under Merlin’s knees and lifts him. 

“Hold on,” Arthur tells him. 

Arthur carries Merlin through the clearing.

Getting them both onto his horse is a challenge, but he manages it. He places Merlin in front of him and keeps him in place with one one arm around his chest.

This is precious. 

Arthur will protect it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur isn't actually his enemy, but Merlin thinks he might feel that way.
> 
> This was such a fun prompt, but I had to RUSH it. I wish I could've done more or played around with it, but it's already 11:08. I cannot get caught up with these, haha.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated and the bomb dot com 
> 
> ugh I'm tired 90s/2000s slang creeping in


	8. "don't say goodbye" - isolation - abandonment

“You may go,” Lord Terrowin pronounces as he stares down his nose at his bedraggled prisoners. “I will not risk the ire of Uther Pendragon by detaining his only son, even if he has illegally crossed into my lands. Your bags and horses are waiting just beyond the gates. Go, and do not return here.” 

Arthur glowers at him, but he knows when to pick his battles. Even though he clearly wants to push the issue, he only says, “C’mon, Merlin.”

Arthur puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder to steer him from the room.

Lord Terrowin tuts.

Frustrated, Arthur’s nostrils flare as he returns his attention to the lord.

When an oily, satisfied, smile stretches across Lord Terrowin’s pockmarked face, Merlin’s heart drops into his stomach.

Lord Terrowin pauses just long enough to let them stew, and then he says, “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood me, Prince Arthur. You are free to leave. The servant boy stays.” 

“What?” Arthur demands. 

“I can pardon a prince, but I have no need to show such mercy for a manservant. For his crimes, he will be sentenced to two years in the dungeon.” With a pleased grin, he eyes Merlin, “I believe isolation will suit him very well. It should remedy his cheek.” 

Merlin glares.

Arthur is livid. He charges toward the foreign lord and announces, “Absolutely not. Merin comes with me.”

The guards draw their swords protectively.

“Arthur!” Merlin hisses.

Lord Terrowin seems amused by the display, but he lifts a hand and motions for his soldiers to stand down. 

“You would attack a lord in his own castle?” Lord Terrowin smirks like a cat toying with a mouse. “Why, I believe that would be an act of war.”

Arthur pales, but he’s still coiled to strike. 

“Arthur,” Merlin murmurs, “Arthur, you can’t.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“You know I’m right,” Merlin presses. “I’ll be fine.”

Arthur’s lips pull back from his teeth like he’s ready to snarl, but Merlin steps closer to him and places a hand on his bicep until he has Arthur’s full attention. His blue eyes are insistent. Firmly, he says, “Go. I’ll be okay.” 

Fuck.

Arthur knows that Merlin is right. As much as he wants to take out the deplorable lord and all his greasy men and escape with Merlin by his side, he knows it’s not possible. There are too many of them, and he’s unarmed. It  _ would i _ ncite a war, and Arthur gets the feeling that Lord Terrowin is just looking for an excuse. No, Arthur is  _ sure _ that Lord Terrowin expects Arthur to lose his head and do something foolish. He’s trying to play Arthur like a lute, pulling his strings to make him sing. Lord Terrowin _wants_ Arthur to give him a reason to go to war, and Arthur can't give it to him. 

Arthur clenches his fists. 

Then he takes a deep breath.

Keeping his voice and tone carefully measured, Arthur says, “I apologize, Lord Terrowin. I am tired from the journey and the events of the past few days. Your judgment is sound, and I respect your ruling and your authority over your land.” 

Lord Terrowin blinks.

Clearly, he’s surprised by this turn of events, but he masks it quickly, “Of course." Then, he says, "Guards, take the boy away.”

The guards move to do his bidding, but Arthur is faster.

He grabs Merlin’s hands and squeezes. He leans in so closely that their foreheads rest together, and urgently he whispers, “I’ll come back for you. I promise.” 

And then the guards are upon them.

Resigned, Merlin drops his head and allows them to none too gently bind his arms behind his back. They pull at him harshly and wrap the rope so tightly that it cuts into the thin skin of his wrists. 

Arthur can’t hide the pain in his expression as Merlin is manhandled. 

Merlin wets his lips, “Arthur, I...”

“No,” Arthur shakes his head. He’s determined, insistent, “Don’t. This isn’t goodbye.”

Merlin does his best to look brave, but it’s hard to feel that way when the situation feels so hopeless, and the guards are dragging him from the room. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we didn't get the actual isolation, but it's heavily implied that it's coming. And we know Arthur wouldn't abandon Merlin and he's going to do whatever he has to do to get him back w/o causing a massive war, but like... he's still gotta leave him there and neither of them know how this is going to work (Merlin can't just like use his magic to disappear bc Lord Terrowin would just be like? Obviously this is Prince Arthur's doing. WAR) (I guess?) (uhh... just suspend your disbelief)
> 
> And if I continue this one day, I would definitely play into the idea that it's been so long that Merlin thinks Arthur isn't coming back for him, and he'd be conflicted bc like "good don't start a war" and "well this is terrible"/"I don't matter to him anyway."
> 
> Also I DO NOT KNOW SHIT about lords and such and lands I just wanted to write some whumptober whump, haha. Like basically the idea is that Terrowin isn't a lord of Camelot but some other random ass kingdom. Again, please suspend your disbelief and forgive any inaccuracies.


	9. "take me instead" - run - ritual sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 300

It’s Arthur on the pyre.

The irony isn’t lost on Merlin as he stares in horror.

Arthur’s face and torso are bruised, like he’s been beaten, and he’s bleeding heavily from a deep cut in his palm. His arms are strung up above his head and secured to the wooden stake. Exhausted, he sags against his bindings.

The sorcerers of the order chant around him while their leader watches with vindictive satisfaction.

Crouching in the bushes, Merlin thinks he’s going to be sick as he takes in the sight in front of him because he has no idea what to do.

How can he stop this?

This is powerful magic, and Merlin doesn’t think he can wipe them all out and help Arthur back to the safety of the approaching rescue party. 

The flames are rising higher and licking at the boards beneath Arthur’s feet. He’s sweating from the heat, and the smoke is thickening. Soon it will damage his lungs.

Merlin is out of time.

Lurching free of his hiding place, Merlin throws out an arm and spells away the fire. 

The chanting abruptly stops.

Slowly, Arthur lifts his head. 

“Traitor!” their master hisses. “The servant betrays his own kind to lick the boots of Uther Pendragon’s son.” 

“Let him go,” Merlin says. He doesn’t address the madman’s words, and he ignores the flicker of startled disbelief on Arthur’s face. 

“You are outnumbered, boy,” their leader reminds him. “You stand no chance against all of us.”

“I know,” Merlin admits. “I know. But I will offer you a trade.”

“A trade?” 

“Take me instead.”

“You jest.”

“No. Release him, and I will turn myself over to you without a fight. You have my word.” 

Their master eyes him skeptically, “Why would we be interested in you?”

“Because I’m Emrys.” 

  
  



	10. blood loss - internal bleeding - trail of blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1000

Merlin doesn’t particularly enjoy being a training dummy, but it’s worse on days like this one, where Arthur is angry and taking out his aggression through one weapon or another. 

The king has practically run his knights into the ground. 

Gwaine’s been stuck running laps for the better part of an hour, and even Leon looks exhausted. 

Moreover, this training session has run long, so Merlin needs to figure out how to finetune the rest of his day in order to complete all his duties.

_Prat_ , Merlin thinks absently. He’s not even sure what’s set Arthur off.

Unfortunately, it’s never a good idea to get distracted while someone is swinging a staff at you, and Merlin is reminded of that for the umpteenth time when Arthur’s next blow collides so solidly with Merlin’s shield it knocks him off his feet. 

Since he hadn’t been bracing himself or paying attention, it’s a nasty fall. First, the shield slips loose of his hold and the staff Arthur is using catches him painfully in the side, and then his ankle twists sharply as he loses his footing and slams into the ground, which knocks the air from his lungs. Finally, the shield follows his descent and smashes into his nose. 

Merlin stares blankly at the blue sky and tries to blink the stars from his vision. 

He’s not sure how long he lays there in the grass, momentarily stunned, but by the time his senses start to cooperate he’s amassed a small crowd.

Lancelot is crouched over him, asking repeatedly if he’s alright, and Percy and Elyan are frowning at him as Leon shakes his head. 

Arthur is still standing above him, but his expression is filled with trepidation. 

Belatedly, Merlin’s brown furrows and he murmurs, “Oww.”

“Merlin!” Gwaine shouts as he races toward them. “What’s happened?”

“The king was practicing with a staff, and Merlin...” Elyan starts to explain, but Arthur interrupts him.

“It was an accident.”

Gwaine turns to glare at Arthur, “What is your problem today, princess?”

Arthur bristles, but Merlin can see the guilt in his eyes.

Merlin can feel a headache starting to bloom within his skull, and he doesn’t want to let this situation escalate into something ugly. “It’s not his fault,” Merlin insists as he pushes the shield off himself and struggles to sit upright. He flashes a grateful smile at Lancelot when he places a palm against his back to steady him. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Gwaine doesn’t seem placated, “He still shouldn’t have been swinging at you so hard.”

“It’s fine, Gwaine,” Merlin persists. His side may be throbbing, there’s blood dripping from his nose onto his clothing, and he’s fairly sure he’s sprained his ankle, but he’s certainly had worse. To prove his point, Merlin gets to his feet. It hurts to put weight on his right foot, but he can manage it. 

“You should still see Gaius,” Gwaine tells him.

Merlin smiles, “I’m going to have to change regardless, so I’ll head back there now before I bring dinner.”

“Don’t,” Arthur says. Merlin realizes it’s the first time he’s spoken. “Just. Take the rest of the day off.”

Surprised, Merlin asks, “Are you sure? I really am fine.”

Arthur grimaces, “That was a nasty hit and a bad fall. You should rest.”

“He’s right,” Lancelot agrees. “C’mon, I’ll help you back to your chambers.”

Shrugging, Merlin let’s Lancelot drape one of Merlin’s arms over his shoulder to take some weight off his injured ankle, and they cross the courtyard together and head for the castle.

Arthur’s expression is pinched as he watches them go, and then he sighs heavily and scrubs a hand over his face. “We’re done for the day. Go get cleaned up.” 

Arthur busies himself moving around a few of the training materials, but he notices that Gwaine lingers after the rest are gone.

The silence stretches and Arthur eventually snaps, “What?”

“He’ll be okay,” Gwaine tells him. “But you should apologize. Go see him later. It will make him happy.”

Arthur flushes and looks away.

Sparing Arthur his dignity, Gwaine leaves without another word. 

It takes Arthur around two hours to pluck up the courage to check on Merlin. He’s had dinner and a hot bath, and he really does feel awful for knocking Merlin flat on the training ground today. He really was being too hard on him. 

He knows Merlin will be a cheeky little shit about it when Arthur apologizes, but he deserves an apology nonetheless. Besides, Arthur had missed his prattling and company over the course of the evening, and this gives him an excuse to visit. Hopefully it won’t just be painfully obvious that Arthur just misses Merlin in general when he isn’t around.

Arthur doesn’t know what he expected when he got to the physicians quarters, but it certainly wasn’t the hushed, urgent tones and painful groaning that he could hear clearly through the door.

What was worse, Arthur knew the source of the latter sound.

_ Merlin _ , Arthur thinks as he rushes into the room.

It’s not a pretty sight.

Merlin is sweating on the cot in the middle of the room and gritting his teeth, and the stench of vomit is heavy in the air. 

Something isn’t right. 

Something is very, very wrong. 

“What’s going on?” Arthur demands of the room at large.

Merlin is unable to respond, but Gaius answers as he rushes around gathering supplies, “He is bleeding, Sire. Internally. I’m preparing for emergency surgery now. I’ve sent a guard to fetch Gwen to assist me.” 

Gaius looks calm, but there’s something in the tone of his voice that betrays his concern.  He is worried about Merlin, who he thinks of as a son, and Arthur’s heart jumps into his throat.

“What... What can I do?”

“Keep him calm until we can begin.”

“I don’t...” Arthur starts to say. He doesn’t know  _ how  _ to keep Merlin calm. 

“Sit with him,” Gaius snaps.

And so Arthur moves to Merlin’s side.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not at all happy with this one but it's 11 and I am exhausted and don't have time to go back and fix it. no idea how they deal with internal bleeding in this era. oh well. also the weapon im thinking of... like it's not a spear exactly? it's like a long club or something... like... a pole? I don't even know. Is that still considered a spear? I am so sleepy. zzZZzzzZZ...
> 
> anyway. thanks to everyone whose read, commented, and left kudos so far. y'all are the bee's knees.
> 
> **edit 10/11 THE WORD WAS STAFF I FIXED IT OMG thank you seadeepy for jogging my memory!!


	11. defiance - struggling - crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 50

“No,” Arthur shouts as he struggles against the knights holding him back. “Merlin!”

“Enough, Arthur!” Uther commands as he watches his son go to pieces over a servant who is guilty of sorcery. 

Bound and gagged, Merlin kneels at the pyre, and Arthur can’t breathe through the tears and smoke. 

  
  



	12. broken down - broken bones - broken trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 50

Merlin cradles his arm to his chest, kneels in the dirt, “I never wanted to lie to you.”

Arthur regards him warily; his sword is drawn, but his grip is slack, “Get up.”

Merlin shudders around a hoarse, broken laugh, “I don’t think I can.”

His eyes roll.

He faints.


	13. Chemical Pneumonia

Merlin is clumsy. 

Sure, he sometimes plays it up to his advantage when it comes to both mischief and missions, but even he can admit he still hasn’t quite grown into his limbs. 

Which is why he isn’t surprised when he knocks over a large vile of something while he’s tasked to clean out one of Gaius’ lesser used supply closers.

The bottle shatters on impact, and Merlin begins coughing immediately when the noxious fumes spill into the air. 

“Eugh, that’s nasty,” he spits out between the bouts of hacking. He tries to read the label, but it’s old, soaked, and hopelessly ruined. 

Merlin shrugs and hopes that it wasn’t important as he mops up the spill. 

Whatever it was, it makes his nose burn and his eyes itch something fierce, so he rubs at them as he leans his weight against the mop.

“Merlin!” Gaius calls from the main room. “Are you quite finished?”

“Almost!” Merlin shouts, and then he waves a hand to clean up the mess and promptly forgets all about it as he continues to go about his duties. 

It’s nightfall by the time Merlin realizes that there’s something terribly wrong with him. 

First of all, he’s had a persistent cough that’s worsened throughout the day, and he’s begun to hack up enough mucus that it’s both impressive and disturbing. Secondly, it’s taken him more than twice as long to haul Arthur’s bath water up the steps because he’s had to keep taking breaks to catch his breath, which is unusual. Lastly, his chest fucking  _ hurts. _

I mean, there are other things, too, like his eyes are burning, and he just feels vaguely ill, nauseated with a headache.

Arthur finally returns to his room just after Merlin’s dumped the last bucket of water into the basin. 

“What? No dinner?” Arthur mocks. “Clearly I’ve grown to expect too much from you.”

Merlin doesn’t even bother with a scathing retort. If Arthur’s already back from his meeting, then Merlin’s taken even longer to complete this task than he realized. He’s dreading going back down the stairs again to the kitchens. He just wants to sleep. 

When Merlin doesn’t take the bait, Arthur looks at him and prepares to throw out another insult. 

Arthur freezes.

“Merlin? You look awful.” Arthur crosses the room in three strides, “Are you sick? You’d better not be contagious.”

In spite of his words, the hand on Merlin’s forehead is gentle, and concern is burning in Arthur’s blue eyes. 

“Maybe,” Merlin concedes. “Yeah.”

Arthur frowns, “You should see Gaius. Take the rest of the night off.” He assesses Merlin carefully and wrinkles his nose. “Maybe tomorrow too.” 

Merlin’s shoulders slump. He really does feel terrible. He’s ready to admit defeat and agree with Arthur for once.

He opens his mouth to do as much, but the words irritate his throat and send him into a wet coughing fit.

It goes on long enough that Arthur proceeds to pound on his back between his shoulder blades. It’s too aggressive, but Merlin is grateful regardless.

By the time he’s finished, he’s gasping.

And then they both catch sight of the state of his hand.

Pink, frothy blood is mixed into the mess coating his fingers.

Arthur’s eyes widen. 

“That’s... not good...” Merlin murmurs. 

And Arthur must agree because he physically hauls Merlin from the room. 

He’s basically carrying him by the time they get to the physician’s chambers, and as he kicks open the door, Arthur bellows a sharp, urgent, “Gaius!”

Gaius startles at the noise, but he gets straight to work when he sees the boy he considers a son hanging off the crown prince like a limpet. 

“Put him on the cot,” Gaius asserts. “Merlin, what are your symptoms?”

Merlin attempts to list them, but he starts coughing again. Arthur, who unconsciously begins to rub circles on Merlin’s back, takes over. 

Gaius looks grave and presses an ear to Merlin’s chest when the fit subsides, “Take a deep breath.”

Merlin tries to comply, but he winces.

Gaius’ skin is ashen. 

“Gaius? What’s wrong with him?”

Arthur already has a theory, and Gaius’ stricken expression is enough to confirm it. Still. He needs to hear it out loud. 

“I fear...” Gaius begins, but he struggles with the words. “I believe it is lung fever.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why I struggled with this chapter so much because I’ve had pneumonia several times in the last few years and had oxygen treatments but this was like pulling teeth. Go figure.


	14. Branding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 225  
> 

Merlin rests with his cheek pressed to Arthur’s chest. 

Finally sleeping peacefully, Merlin’s soft breaths ghost over Arthur’s skin while Arthur reverently runs his hand over the expanse of Merlin’s naked back. 

There are many things that demand the king’s attention, but they will have to wait. Instead, Arthur sits propped up against his pillows with the weak afternoon sun filtering into the room and his manservant wrapped in his arms. 

If this is what Merlin needs to heal, to feel safe, to  _ sleep _ without nightmares, then Arthur will give it to him. 

The sheets have slipped from Merlin’s shoulders to pool at his slim hips, and the tips of Arthur’s fingers skim along the line of fabric. 

When he thinks about what the linens are hiding, he’s torn between a vicious anger and a feeling of nausea. 

The bruises would fade, the cuts, even those that needed stitches, would close up, and Gaius has assured him that the worst of the infection has run its course, but Arthur knew he would never be able to forget how close he came to losing Merlin this time.

A permanent reminder was etched onto Merlin’s thigh.

A burn, a brand, like chattel, a constant reminder to the both of them, as his enemies had intended.

Merlin whimpers in his sleep, and Arthur’s arms tighten around him protectively.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little softer than the usual whump.


	15. Magical Healing

Merlin knows he’s never had a knack for healing.

Sure, he is sometimes able to help Gaius’ patients, the knights, or Arthur with minor ailments or injuries, and he can often at least repair the worst of the damage from a more serious wound. 

The trouble is that it exhausts him. 

The first time he’d saved Arthur from what would have been a mortal wounding, it had nearly killed Merlin himself. He’d  slept for the better part of a week and had been feverish and weak as a newborn foal for a fortnight afterward. It had also ruined his own body’s ability to fight off illness, which kept him sick off and on for the following month. 

At the time Arthur didn’t know about Merlin’s magic, so Gaius had to come up with some outrageous excuse and phony illness to explain Merlin’s absence and condition. It barely worked, and Arthur was clearly suspicious. 

Now that the truth of Merlin’s identity is out and Merlin is both Arthur’s court sorcerer and consort, it’s bound to go a bit differently, even if neither Merlin nor Gaius thought to mention the challenges of Merlin’s healing magic to the king.   
  


When Merlin wakes up, he is wrapped in Arthur’s soft bedding and covered with thick furs while a fire crackles cheerfully in the hearth. He feels pleasantly warm, but his head aches and his body feels stiff, like he’s been lying still for far too long. He’s thirsty, too, and his throat feels rough and scratchy. 

_ I’m sick?  _ He wonders, unsure. He can’t quite remember how he came to be here, but thinking feels like far too much effort, so he takes a page out of Arthur’s book and decides against it. 

Instead, Merlin attempts to relieve the soreness of his muscles through a languid stretch, but his efforts are feeble and fruitless because his limbs won’t cooperate. Frowning, he realizes even his eyelids feel too heavy to open.  _ Ugh _ , he thinks. The last time he’d felt this way he had just overdone it in an attempt to keep Arthur’s reckless arse alive. 

What had happened? 

A strangled groan leaves his lips. 

The sound is enough to draw attention to him, and suddenly the bed dips under the solid weight of another person. 

“Merlin?” 

It’s Arthur. 

Of course it’s Arthur. 

This is Arthur’s room, Arthur’s bed, and Merlin is Arthur’s, too, friend, confidante, lover, different side of the same coin. 

Of course it’s Arthur, whose palm is gently pressed to Merlin’s brow and then cards through his hair. 

“Are you awake?” Arthur asks.

“Mmmphf,” Merlin answers eloquently. 

Of course it’s Arthur, whose arm wraps around Merlin’s shoulders to help him sit up against a mound of pillows, who raises a goblet of delightfully cool water to Merlin’s lips. 

“Here.This too,” Arthur says, and then he presses a glass bottle of some foul concoction against Merlin’s lips. Merlin wrinkles his nose at the smell, presses his lips into a firm line, sealed. “Drink it, Merlin,” Arthur says lowly. He squeezes Merlin’s bicep in warning, so Merlin relents. 

He sputters around the taste, but he manages to swallow the entirety of the potion. The glass bottle clinks when Arthur sets it on the table and sighs. 

_ Of course _ it’s Arthur, who sighs so tiredly as he presses a kiss to Merlin’s temple. 

It takes an enormous amount of effort, but he wants to  _ see _ Arthur. Sluggishly, his tired eyes blink, blink, blink, and then Arthur’s figure comes into focus. 

Merlin can’t help the slight uptick of his mouth. 

Arthur’s hardened facade cracks for a second as he lets out a soft sound of amusement, “Let’s have you, lazy daisy.” 

“Fi’ more min’ts,” Merlin whined. The words all run together, and Merlin’s tongue feels too thick in his mouth.

Arthur shakes his head and scoffs derisively, “Merlin, you’ll be lucky if I let you out of this bed in five more  _ days _ .”

Merlin furrows his brow at the proclamation, “‘M’sick?”

“Yes. Because you’re an idiot.”

“Hey,” Merlin protests. 

“Hush,” Arthur insists. “I am so unbelievably mad at you.” The words ring true, but the way Arthur gently kneads and massages Merlin’s neck with one strong hand belies them. 

“I didn’t do it,” Merlin murmurs, though he’s not sure what he has or hasn’t done. 

“Oh, you very much  _ did _ do it,” Arthur counters. “Twice, apparently. Gaius told me this exact thing happened  _ years ago,  _ when you were so ill that you were unable to serve me for a month.” Arthur’s thumb digs into a particularly sore place with the perfect amount of pressure, and he pauses his speech when Merlin moans and melts. “And I’m sure it’s happened too many times to count to a lesser degree without either of our knowledge.” 

Arthur cups Merlin’s face and tips his chin up so that he can look him in the eyes. He brushes his thumb over Merlin’s chapped lips, “Don’t ever do it again. Do you understand me? I’m ordering you to never do it again.” 

Arthur's eyes are so  _ blue,  _ Merlin thinks as his awareness drifts. He thinks Arthur is still talking, but he’s not sure. 

“No one knew what was going on. I should’ve died, but I was suddenly fine... and you... you were unresponsive. You wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know what to think.” 

Merlin struggles to remain awake, even though he thinks he’s probably been sleeping for ages. 

“It rained on the entire ride back to Camelot. When I sent for Gaius, he feared you would take ill with lung fever in your weakened state.”

Arthur pauses for a long time, and Merlin belatedly realizes there are tears in his eyes, “He worried it would kill you, Merlin, damn you.” 

_ Oh,  _ Merlin thinks. He hates it when Arthur cries. 

Merlin wants to brush away the tears, but he’s so incredibly tired. “Love you,” he mumbles as he begins to lose the battle with sleep. It’s all he can right now, really, when he feels so frail and floaty. “Love you, Arthur. Love you.” 

Arthur’s exhale is shaky as he maneuvers them both into a more comfortable position. He wraps an arm around Merlin’s waist and draws his back to his chest. There’s no space between them, and Arthur tangles their legs together. 

“Love you, Arthur,” Merlin whispers again. “Love you.”

And Merlin drifts off with Arthur’s damp face pressed into the nape of his neck. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I definitely want to come back and do something with this line of thinking. Merlin can heal, but only under extenuating circumstances and it knocks him flat? Let’s do it.


	16. Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 50

“Poor Emrys,” the witch coos as her lips brush over his ear. She presses her fingertips into his temples, and the clearing before them transforms into familiar stone corridors.

_Arthur, commanding his knights,_

_Arthur, with a torch,_

_Arthur, with live steel._

“The one you love is coming for your head." 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... I'm only eight hours late on this one. I had some anxiety issues yesterday, so I had to take a fast-acting medication...and it knocks me out. Sorry this one is late!


	17. Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 150

“What wouldn’t you do to keep your secret, I wonder?” Lord Rolfe murmurs thoughtfully as he turns Merlin’s head from left to right. His large hand is gripping Merlin’s jaw so tightly Merlin’s sure it will bruise. Impotent rage burns in Merlin’s blue eyes, but he’s at Lord Rolfe’s mercy. There’s nothing he can do.

Of course, this is when Arthur rounds the corner.

Lord Rolfe releases Merlin’s like he’s been burned.

“What’s going on here?” Arthur, glancing between the two of them with suspicion burning in hisgaze.

“Nothing, Your Highness,” Lord Rolfe sputters. He’s not convincing.

Arthur’s eyes narrow, “Merlin?”

Lord Rolfe’s expression briefly contorts with offense. Merlin is a servant, which essentially makes him no more than a rug or coatrack in his opinion. The fact that Arthur would even consider asking Merlin for his version of the events is an insult.

“It’s nothing, Sire,” Merlin lies.


	18. Panic Attacks

When Merlin jerks awake, he feels like there’s a hand wrapped around his throat and a horse sitting on his chest. He tries in vain to gasp around the pressure, but it’s futile. 

_Has he been cursed_? 

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he thinks, _Arthur_!

Suddenly he feels so much worse. 

Merlin isn’t sure if it’s his frantic groping around the bedding or the awful sounds of not-breathing, but Arthur’s abruptly awake and alert, sleep warmed palm on Merlin’s naked shoulder, asking, “Merlin? What is it? What’s happened?”

But Merlin can’t answer him.

Because. 

Merlin.

Can’t. 

Fucking. 

Breathe. 

Arthur’s got his hand on Merlin’s face, speaking, but it’s just buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, and Arthur’s eyes are wild with fear, and he turns away to shout something, and Merlin lets out a strangled whimper. Arthur pulls him close, wraps him up in his strong arms, and presses a kiss to his temple. He crushes them together, rocking and murmuring into his skin while Merin shakes apart in his embrace. 

_I’m dying,_ Merlin thinks, _I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying_. 

Merlin can’t believe this is how it’s going to end. Some completely unknown force targeting him with some strange magic, and what about _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur_? Merlin can’t even save himself. Will they come for Arthur next? 

Merlin’s chokes on a sob, and Arthur just rocks, rocks, rocks him, and Merlin wants to tell him he loves him, loves him, loves him, and he isn’t ready to leave him. 

Nausea twists in his gut, and he thinks he’s going to be sick, and everything just hurts, hurts, hurts, and Merlin can’t _breathe_. 

Merlin flinches when a cold hand touches his bicep. 

Arthur is shifting them around on the bed now, and Merlin whines because the room is spinning, and Arthur is peeling Merlin off him, and _no, please, just hold me,_ Merlin thinks.

Gaius waves something in front of his nose, and it _burns_ , but Merlin’s chest lurches and he inhales. 

His breath quivers and rattles around in his lungs, but _oh_ , he can finally, finally breathe, and Gaius is here, and Arthur is here, and they will fix it, they’ll save him. Merlin knows the both of them would move heaven and earth for him. 

Arthur is propping him up against his own body and rubbing slow circles on Merlin’s back, and Merlin realizes that he’s shivering, teeth chattering loudly, but he isn’t cold, and Gaius is talking to him, squeezing both of his hands in his steady grip. 

“C’mon, Merlin, listen to the sound of my voice. Come back to us, my boy,” Gaius is saying, and Merlin understands the words. “There you are. Just listen to my voice.” Merlin stares into his eyes as he continues, “You’re safe, Merlin. We’re all safe. You’re in your bed in the King’s chambers, and it’s past midnight and a bit chilly. I’m holding your hands, and you’re listening to me speak. Now breathe in through your nose for a count of four, one, two, three, four...”

“Breathe with me, Merlin,” Arthur urges against his ear. “One two, three, four.”

“Hold for seven, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Now exhale for eight.”

It takes several attempts over the course of the next few minutes, but Merlin feels Arthur’s chest rising and falling against his back, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s neck, and Gaius squeezes his hands in encouragement.

When it’s over, when he’s breathing normally, Merlin feels lightheaded and keyed up, but also drained. 

“Wh... what happened?” he asks. 

Gaius hands him a goblet of water, but Merlin’s hand is shaking so much that he sloshes the contests over the bedclothes. Arthur takes the goblet and helps him drink.

“I felt like... like I was going to die,” Merlin confesses when it's empty, and Arthur’s lips press together in concern. “Is there some kind of spell, or...?”

“I do not believe it is a spell, as I have already told the king,” Gaius says. He looks both sympathetic and saddened. Merlin swallows. Arthur is still holding him, and Merlin knows he should be embarrassed to be clinging to him so blatantly. Merlin can’t bring himself to pull away as he waits to hear Gaius’ thoughts. Merlin’s never experienced a magical attack of this nature, but Gaius may have witnessed something before the Purge. 

“I’m afraid you’ve had a rather serious attack of the nerves,” Gaius explains. “It’s not uncommon for those who have been through such perilous ordeals.” 

Merlin blinks at him. 

“I’ve seen it,” Arthur tells him as he strokes a thumb over Merlin’s prominent collar bone. “Knights, soldiers, guards, refugees... They survive the worst life has to offer, heal, but their minds betray them.”

“I’m not insane!” Merlin exclaims. The trembling has lessened, but it persists. What is _wrong with him?_

“Shh,” Arthur soothes, so impossibly gently it makes Merlin want to cry. How can Arthur be such an enormous prat, but so soft when Merlin needs it from him? “No one thinks you’re mad.” 

“Of course not,” Gaius reassures him. “You’ve handled everything remarkably well.” 

“I don’t understand,” Merlin says, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, “Nothing’s even _happened_. We’ve been at peace for more than two months.” 

“It matters not,” Gaius tells him. “It can strike at any time, anywhere, even when one is sleeping. There is often no rhyme nor reason to it.” 

Merlin makes an unhappy, strangled sound, “So this could happen in the middle of a battle? What am I supposed to do? I can’t... I can’t just lose it in the middle of a fight.”

“You won’t,” Arthur promises. “Your instincts have never failed you before.”

“ _This_ has never happened before,” Merlin asserts. He shudders on his next inhale, and Arthur’s forehead creases. 

“The king is correct,” Gaius interrupts before Merlin can work himself back into a panic. “It is likely the same instincts that make you calm under pressure are what caused this night’s episode.”

Merlin’s nose wrinkles at the term, and Gaius shrugs. 

“So... so what _do_ I do? I don’t want this to happen again.”

“It is likely that it will be somewhat less frightening if it happens again because you will know what _is_ happening,” Gaius says. “In the meantime, there are some breathing exercises you can learn, and there are always herbs like lavender that are widely known to have calming properties. Though for the most part, it will all be trial and error.”

Merlin sighs and slumps more fully into Arthur, “Great. This is just... great. I’m sorry. To both of you. For waking you in the middle of the night, and the fuss...”

“Don’t be a dollophead,” Arthur nudges him. “You’ve been out of your bed roaming the castle more than either of us combined over the years, and all to protect others.”

Merlin flushes.

“He’s right, Merlin,” Gaius agrees. “And you will be alright, too.” 

“Listen to Gaius,” Arthur says. “He is a physician.” 

Merlin huffs a weak laugh, and it’s enough to break the tension. 

“And as a physician, I’d say the best course of action now for all of us to get some rest,” Gaius advises as he rises from the chair that had been brought over for him. He squeezes Merlin’s shoulder reassuringly, “Goodnight.” 

And Merlin is still upset and maybe even a bit afraid, but it’s manageable with Arthur snugly curled against his back. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is writing GAIUS SO HARD? Also, I am very tempted to write this from Arthur's POV. Like, I feel like he seems OOC, but at the same time... I imagine he would be FREAKED OUT if woke up to Merlin essentially hyperventilating, etc. Especially because I think, like Merlin, he would also assume it was some sort of magical attack at first. 
> 
> I do have panic disorder, but I had my first panic attack more than... OH SHIT IT WAS LIKE FIFTEEN YEARS AGO. Wow. I had to double check my math. I was like... that can't be right... but I was eleven at the time. UGH. Now I'm going to go have an existential crisis.
> 
> ANYWAY. I was trying to say it's a little hard to remember all the details of my first panic attack now bc a.) I've had a lot at this point. b.) APPARENTLY IT WAS A LONG ASS TIME AGO OMG. 
> 
> Also... tried to do some research on what they would've called panic attacks in medieval times, had no luck and decided on "attack of the nerves" because it was the first thing to pop into my head. 
> 
> Haha, anyway. Hope you enjoyed.


	19. Survivor’s Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 50

Merlin’s magic is unparalleled.

With a wave of his hand, he could freeze time. With a whispered spell, he could stop the swing of the executioner’s axe.

With so little effort, he could save this man, who does not deserve to die.

But Merlin does nothing.

And he hates himself.


	20. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 100

Arthur gives him a head start.

It’s the only thing the prince can offer him.

Merlin leaves the castle under the cover of night and doesn’t stop walking until the sun sets again the next day.

Heartbroken and weary, he’s ready to collapse, but he forces himself to climb the branches of an ancient tree with thick foliage.

Merlin isn’t even sure if he’s still in Camelot, but he knows he must take caution the next few days: Uther will make the search parties hunt him for at least a week.

Merlin finds himself at a loss.   


Bereft.

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddddd Merlin is both physically and generally lost.


	21. Chronic Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 50

Sometimes the questing beast’s bite still pains him. 

Arthur knows that Merlin is the only reason he’s alive, and he’s also the one who’s best at soothing the ache all these years later.

Magic, warm and radiating from his palms, brushing over muscle. 

A tender kiss pressed to the scar. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not my best but I've got a migraine and need to stop staring at this screen. Thanks for reading!


	22. Drugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 350

“What’d you do to him!?” Merlin shouts. 

The noise makes Arthur’s head pound something awful, but when he tries to tell Merlin to shut up, all he manages is a garbled moan.

Arthur furrows his brow in confusion. 

He feels _terrible_.

Why does he feel terrible? 

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s slumped over in his chair with his half-eaten dinner forgotten on the table in front of him. 

His mouth tastes funny.

Eugh.

He gags a little bit and then spits, which is just gross because it dribbles down his chin. 

“You shouldn’t be here! You were dismissed!”

Why is _everyone_ yelling? 

“You’ll find I rarely do as I’m told,” Merlin says darkly. “What. Did. You. Do. To. Him?”

 _Hmmm_ , Arthur is so tired all of the sudden.

He should make Merlin set out his night clothes and turn down the bed, but then he frowns because he can’t ask Merlin to do those things because Merlin has golden eyes, and Arthur told him he was no longer his servant. Which makes Arthur sad because he likes that Merlin is his servant, even if he’s rubbish at it, because it means Merlin is always with Arthur, when he wakes up in the morning, when he goes about his day, before he goes to bed at night. 

But isn’t that the problem?

Arthur shouldn’t want Merlin to be around him all the time because Merlin’s eyes aren’t blue. 

Why aren’t Merlin’s eyes blue? 

Even now, Arthur can see the gold through his blurred, tipping, fuzzy vision. 

So now Arthur has Edgar, who has brown eyes, but isn’t pretty or funny and brings him food that doesn’t taste as good.

 _Well,_ Arthur thinks, as he sees the still form of his new manservant lying on the cold stone floor, Arthur _thinks_ his eyes were brown. He can’t tell now because they’re closed. 

“Arthur!” Merlin cries, and then he’s at Arthur’s side. Arthur almost smiles despite himself, but then Merlin is shoving his fingers between Arthur’s lips, over his tongue, down his throat, _what the fuck?_

Arthur pukes all over both of them. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a confusing narrative but I wanted to portray that Arthur was drugged and not doing super welL keeping up with the danger at hand because _Merlin_ and ofc Arthur’s mind keeps wandering back to him.
> 
> I kind of had in mind that Arthur discovered Merlin’s magic, dismissed him, and within a week his new manservant tried to drug and kill him. Enter Merlin, who makes quick work of Edgar. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	23. Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 50

When the battle draws to an end, Merlin lowers his hands and sways.

Arms catch him before he collapses, and he hears the words, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” A kiss is pressed to his filthy brow, “It’s over. We’re safe.”

Merlin lets exhaustion pull him into the embrace of sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to do more with this, but I, too, am quite sleepy. 
> 
> My plan was always to use this to help with writer's block, which I think it has, so when the challenge is over I'll probably revisit some of these for longer fics.
> 
> Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments. They make my day.


	24. Sensory Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 300

Merlin _tries_ to make his way back home, even while blinded, deafened, and lost in the woods.

It’s futile, though, and now he has the broken wrist to prove it.

So he settles with his back against the rough bark of a fallen tree, and his fingers are clenched in the soft grass and mud beneath him.

Grounding him.

He’s not sure how much time passes but the changes in temperature make him think it’s been at least one day and night. He’s desperately thirsty, and he’s in pain, and he’s _frightened_ , dammit, by the blackness, by the silence, which is impenetrable.

He’s never felt so untethered, so he rocks, rocks, rocks and worries about the madness that’s creeping in on him, threatening the ties to his sanity. 

When someone touches him, he flinches. His magic wants to lash out in defense, protect. It’s agony to restrain it, but he pulls it into himself, where it can only hurt him.

Instead, Merlin flails, kicking, slapping, bony elbows and knobby knees held up as a barrier between himself and the unknown figure before him. 

Merlin is grabbed up, crushed against the other body, and his wrist is jostled, and he whimpers, a mass of fear and pain, held prisoner against a strange man in a dark and terribly quiet world, a man who’s got his left hand on Merlin’s sternum, fingers splayed out wide, and he’s grabbing Merlin’s other hand, pulling, tugging, placing it over his own, forcing Merlin’s thumb to rub over a band of metal, a ring, on his index finger, over and over, urgent, a ring with three distinct sections, divided by raised lines, over and over, until it’s familiar.

 _Oh,_ Merlin gasps. His throat feels tight, and his face is wet, and he’s sobbing brokenly. _Oh._

 _Arthur_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 12:23 EST, but it's only 9:23 on the west coast so I'm counting it. Also my battery is about to die. ALSO I LOVED THIS PROMPT EVEN THOUGH I DIDN'T AT FIRST. I shit you not bc this is embarrassing af, but I was listening to "I'd come for you" by stupid Nickelback (hello AMVs), and like got this idea into my head along with other ideas like this from Arthur's perspective and I absolutely WANT to come back to this as a longer fic with alternating POV. 
> 
> thanks for reading!!


	25. Disorientation - Ringing Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 300

The explosion knocks him flat.

When he comes around, he finds that he’s been thrown clear across the field from the force of it. His ears are ringing, and there is ash on his tongue. He touches the epicenter of pain on the back of his head, and his fingers come away bloody.

For once, Merlin wants to stay down.

But one name forces him back to his feet.

The same name that always forces him back to his feet.

Merlin staggers and gasps, clutching his ribs like he can hold himself together, and presses on through the blackened earth with a name bleeding from his lips.

Others have begun to stir, but some are not so lucky.

Merlin’s stomach churns at the scent of scorched land and charred flesh.

He finds his golden king curled on his side some yards away, and Merlin shuffles along until he’s close enough to drop to his knees next to him.

He reaches out because he has to reach out.

He has to reach out because this is Arthur.

And Arthur’s brow twitches at the first touch of Merlin’s shaking hand.

His clear blue eyes blink open and find Merlin’s.

Arthur smiles.

Arthur, alive and mostly unharmed, Merlin could weep with the relief of it.

Instead, Merlin swallows and brushes his thumb over Arthur’s cheek, smudging a streak of dirt across it.

A bloodied Leon finds them next and pulls Arthur upright.

Merlin wants nothing more than to rest, but there isn’t time for it now.

Once more Merlin tries to leverage himself up to stand, but it’s clumsy to the point that Leon is forced to grab and steady him.

“All right, Merlin?” Leon asks.

Arthur is frowning at him. Merlin’s vision swims.

When he collapses, Arthur is there to catch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love on the last chapter. The ring is open to interpretation, wedding ring or otherwise, but I was thinking along the line of the ring Arthur wears that belonged to his mother. I left it vague intentionally. 
> 
> I finally feel like I’m getting back into the flow of writing. I feel like my writing has improved throughout this exercise, like I was struggling and rusty and now it’s coming more smoothly and easily. I feel like the quality has gone up haha.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	26. Concussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 250

“No, Merlin, stay awake,” Arthur mutters.

 _Prat_ , Merlin thinks. He goes to the enormous effort to wrench his eyes open to glower at the king. 

Arthur’s answering expression is both fond and exasperated. 

Merlin closes his eyes and snuggles more firmly into Arthur’s lap, where his head is currently pillowed.

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur snaps.

 _Arse,_ Merlin thinks this time. He would say as much, too, if he were sure he wouldn’t vomit all over the both of them when he opens his mouth. It would serve Arthur right, but Merlin doesn’t want to ride the rest of the way to Camelot with sticky puke on his clothes. It’s cold and miserable enough already. He’s got a nightmare of a headache, which he imagines has to do with the club he took to the temple.

It hadn’t taken long at all to ascertain that Merlin wouldn’t be able to keep astride his mare, so they had commandeered a farm cart through means of generous compensation and a promise to return it. 

It also didn’t take long to determine that Merlin could not be left alone in the cart because he kept vacillating between making sad little pained noises every time the cart rolled over a bump and trying to nod off.

With a nasty concussion. 

_Idiot._

“Hey, you can’t sleep with a head injury!” Arthur exclaims. Clearly annoyed, he complains, “It’s a good thing you ended up court sorcerer because you would’ve been a _terrible_ physician _—_ Merlin, for fuck’s sake, wake up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going with a concerned but mostly annoyed!arthur bc Merlin is a little shit.
> 
> Also I tried to add myself to the whumptober2020 collection at the start of the month on ao3, but I’m starting to wonder if I missed something or did something wrong bc I still haven’t been added. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!


	27. Extreme Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 50

The floodwater reaches Merlin’s hips.

It’s muddy and chilled, and it long ago leeched the warmth from his body.

Head down, he ploughs through the deluge.

Merlin will not be stopped by the elements. 

Let the rain fall.

Let the storm rage.

Let the wind howl. 

He will find Arthur. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this one. Like. I've been thinking about this prompt since yesterday, I think, and I was just like, I got nothing. And my contacts are all dried out and sticking to my eyes. So. Yeah. I think it turned out all right in the end.
> 
> thanks for reading <33333


	28. Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 50

There’s an arrow in Merlin’s stomach, and Arthur put it there.

Arthur, who stares in horror as Merlin clutches his abdomen and drops to his knees.

Arthur, who watches Merlin’s body shudder around a cough that leaves his chin dripping blood. 

Arthur, who was careless.

Merlin, who suffers for it. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not super happy with this one but I worked eleven hours today and I am out of brain thoughts. 
> 
> When I originally wrote it, the last line was just "Merlin, who suffers." I can't decide which ending I like better. 
> 
> thank you for reading!


	29. Mandatory Bedrest

“Arthur Pendragon!” Merlin shouts. He barrels across the training grounds with his silvery Court Sorcerer robes billowing behind him. 

Gwaine claps Arthur gently on the shoulder, “Nice knowing you, mate.” 

“You were a great king, sire,” Leon quips.

Arthur shoots him a betrayed look. 

“What the HELL do you think you’re doing out of bed!?” Merlin demands.

“Merlin,” Arthur sputters. He’s a little too chagrined for composure. “I thought... I thought you had meetings all day today? With the druids?”

“And I thought you weren’t such a dollophead!” Merlin counters. “I stand corrected! Clearly I was mistaken!”

Arthur winces a little at Merlin’s sheer volume.

“Gaius explicitly told you to stay in bed until he released you for light duties! You’re going to rip your stitches!” 

“I’m just supervising!” Arthur argues. “See! I’ll even take a seat on the bench! Aren’t fresh air and sunshine supposed to promote healing?” 

Merlin pinches the bridge of his nose, “Wow. We’re doing this then. You’re really going to try this shite on me? When I was the _physician’s apprentice_ for years?”

“Well, in my defense, you weren’t a very...”

“Nope.” Merlin holds up a hand. Arthur’s mouth clicks shut. “Not another word.”

When Arthur tries to continue, he realizes that Merlin has spelled him silent.

Gwaine howls with laughter. 

“Better. Now we are going back to our room, and you are going to rest, or so help me I will stick you to the mattress! I’ll have to send a servant to fetch Gaius to check your stitches because apparently I can’t leave you alone for more than twenty minutes!”

Arthur wants to argue, but his inability to speak just incites Gwaine into becoming more raucous.

Gwaine, who never learns, grins, “The perils of marrying the world’s most powerful sorcerer, eh?” Chuckling at his own joke, he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and says, “I bet that bed-sticking spell is pretty fun, though.”

“Gwaine!” exclaims Merlin, flushing. When he waves his hand, Gwaine is abruptly silenced, too. “Okay. I have a migraine, and I’ve had enough of ridiculous bloody knights today. Anyone else want to make an arse of themselves? No?”

Percy and Elyan shake their heads nervously. Leon suddenly finds that he needs to check one of the newer recruit’s technique right that very second. 

“No, then. Good. Arthur, let's go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I had some fun with this one. 
> 
> Thanks for reading ❤️


	30. Wound Reveal - Ignoring an Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 200

Arthur hugs Merlin when the battle is finished.

He knows he should be embarrassed, but later he’ll blame it on the adrenalyn and relief coursing through his veins.

When his most trusted knights begin streaming into the tent, Arthur shoves the servant away for the sake of propriety and clears his throat.

When Leon gets a good look at him, he pales. 

“Your highness!” Leon exclaims. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Arthur affirms as he claps Leon on the shoulder to reassure him. “Yes, I’m fine. Not even a scratch.” 

“But...” Leon wavers. His gaze is troubled. “Sire, you’re... you’re covered in blood.” 

Arthur blinks in surprise, but looks down at himself. 

His mail is streaked crimson. 

But he’s fine.

Arthur is  _ fine _ , so why is there blood all over him? 

He swipes his fingers through it, shrugs, “It’s not mine.”

Leon’s brow furrows.

“Then whose...?” Gwaine asks speculatively. 

“I’m not sure,” Arthur answers. It’s probably the blood of an enemy, but that doesn’t seem right to him either. Even with the violent melee, it didn’t make sense. 

Until he remembers the hug.

And then Merlin, who had been standing quietly off to the side, abruptly collapses to the ground. 


	31. Left for Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 300

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this came from “Stand by Me.” The Boostraps cover is the one I had in mind. I listened to it again while writing this last chapter, and I think you may enjoy it if you play it, too, while you read. 
> 
> Many, many thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos, and/or commented on this fic. You all kept me going. 
> 
> This fic is officially dedicated and gifted to harsassypotters, ElizaStorms, and seadeepy, who commented on every chapter.

Merlin is just a servant.

He is worth no ransom.

When his captors realize that no one is coming for him, they take out their frustration on him, and they leave him for dead in the dark wintery woods. 

He is a crumpled heap on the forest floor. Every inhale is painful. His nose is swollen and clogged with blood, so he takes shallow breaths through his mouth. His tears are frozen to his face, but he’s no longer cold. Snow flurries are carried by the wind, and a dusting of flakes stick to his skin, slowly accumulating. When the weather takes a turn for the worse, he will be buried here. 

Merlin’s not sure if the frigid temperature itself will take him, or if he will succumb to his injuries first. 

The moon is high in the sky, full and bright, and it glitters on the frost that coats the leaves. 

Merlin can barely see through his bruised eyes, but it doesn’t matter to him now.

He lets them fall closed.

He doesn’t want to see anymore.

Alone, broken, the forest silent around him. 

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

He’s ready to let go.

And later there are footsteps, soft, muffled by the blanket of snow that covers the earth. 

There is an impossibly gentle hand turning his body. 

There are blue eyes and golden hair that shine silver in the moonlight. 

The prince sheds his cloak to wrap around his servant. 

_ What are you doing here _ ? Merlin wants to ask, but it comes out garbled and unclear. 

But Arthur understands. Arthur knows what Merlin’s tried to say. 

The palm that cups his face is almost too hot. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispers. There is a promise on lips, urgency, “Merlin, I could never -- I will  _ never _ leave you behind.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s all folks... for now! Like I said, I plan to revisit a number of these. If there’s one you want to be continued, let me know. I can’t promise it will happen, but truthfully your interest tends to fuel my interest. 
> 
> Wow... I can't believe this is actually over. Like. Challenges like these are so crazy bc you go back and read a prompt from three weeks ago and don't even remember writing it, hahaha. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my first Merlin fic! I hope you enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Things:  
> 1\. Prompts are from [Whumptober2020](https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com)  
> 2\. Anyone is welcome to remix, expand, or podfic any of these pieces. Just tag me please.  
> 3\. Each chapter is it's own little universe unless otherwise specified. Some of will be drabbles with a specific word count. I have taken many liberties -- so don't be surprised if Lancelot/Gwen pop up happily married or good!Morgana is joining the gang for adventures.  
> 4\. I have had horrible writer's block, and this is one attempt to get past it. I can't believe this is my first foray into this fandom, especially when I'm trying to balance a new job, haha.  
> 5\. [Come fangirl with me.](https://sunflower-le-tournesol.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Break My Step & Relent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148247) by [seadeepy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seadeepy/pseuds/seadeepy)




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